Writing Portfolio- Lily Lopate, Age 17, Grade 12, Berkeley Carroll School, Gold Key

The False Mirror

The pupil dilates dead center

Black like a Gaeta olive

A contrast amidst a sphere of daze.

The retina opens, revealing its π

Of inner parts where behind the black mass

Lies a model blue sky—a color only found in dreams.

Where white clouds of stratus and cumulous subsume and

Overlap, their only hope is to hang in the balance—

Attempt to interface with the ink black spot—attempt to

Superimpose, to keep face.

Beige eyelids the color of sanded wooden tables

Curve wide and fold like lips of wet supple clay

Around an elliptical edge. They meet

At an ideal point like a fishhook at a glossy tear duct.

As you enter the eye, its walls curve inward like the terminal before a plane.

It’s opening up the view

For false conceptions, false impressions and false glimpses

Where the eye is not a dual lens spyglass

Or a two-way street.

Black pupils dominate, dream clouds traverse

And all this leads to poor eyesight and a ghostly

phantasmagoric rapport.

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